


So Dramatic!!! On Ice!

by Dasari-Jael (anlaaria)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Confused Victor Nikiforov, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, POV Victor Nikiforov, Social Anxiety, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-12-04 07:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11550201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anlaaria/pseuds/Dasari-Jael
Summary: In the background Victor heard his name in horrified Japanese followed by what surely had to be ‘started a fire!’, ‘is having a heart attack!’ or something equally terrifying because Yuuri’s voice cracked and it sounded, faintly, as if the man might be sobbing.This was not how Victor had intended or predicted that things would go.





	1. Chapter One

The thing is... Victor Nikiforov knows that he is on the very knife’s edge between madness and eccentricity and that someday soon he’s going to just slip down the center. Slice himself in half on the skater’s blade until none of those pieces fit together any more.

And maybe that’s what happened when Victor watched Katsuki Yuuri skate with Victor’s heart in his outstretched hands. Because there it was: Victor’s choreography without the self-aggrandizement of a perfect quad and a roaring crowd. No music, no commentary, just Katsuki, as silent as a gasped breath under water, dancing on the ice like a man grasping endlessly for an unknown. Love maybe. Maybe something else. Love was too easy. Maybe it was- 

Uncertainty had plagued Victor from the moment he had stepped foot on the ice as a child. It had been with him always, guiding him along a path he wasn’t sure he ever enjoyed. But love? Yes, he loved the ice. Like a normal man loved air or water; Victor loved the ice.

Would he fall? Certainly. Would he rise again, better than anyone before? Anyone after?

Nikiforov the Great. 

Certainly.

But as Victor watched Katsuki skate Victor saw himself outside of himself and he did not enjoy the view; yearning, hoping, plagued and silent in his abandonment. Who was there to help him escape his torment when the ice only ratified the solemnity of his vows?

Always be better. Always get up. Always be perfect.

Never let anyone see beyond the performance. Past him and through into the cold of the ice. 

But someone had seen past it; the quads, the speed, the roar of the crowd. Someone had finally seen past all that and just seen… him?

Is that who Victor Nikiforov had always been or just who he had wanted to be? There he was sketched out on paper in the locker room after another endless night of drills and hope. Hoping that he could surprise someone just one more time-

And here he was. Surprised.

“Makkachin.” Victor said then. “We’re going on a trip.”

They went to Japan. 

They went to go see Katsuki Yuuri.

 

***

 

It turned out that Mr. Katsuki (oh call him Yuuri, his mother had said) did not understand at all why Victor was there at his house eating his food and baring his body for all of Yuuri and Haesetsu to see. Yuuri had also apparently forgotten all about his drunken and strangely casual bump and grind session with Victor.

And that beautiful waltz. The waltz that had made victor feel… 

The waltz that had made Victor feel.

Instead of walking over and touching Victor and smiling and being grateful and awed in the onsen Yuuri had bent over, braced his hand on the wall and gagged a little bit.

Gagged. A. Little. Bit.

Victor had laughed, a strange high-pitched thing, and then slapped his hands over his mouth when Yuuri had looked over, ashen, and then tripped over himself trying to get away.

Yuuri eventually made it out of the Onsen. Victor eventually sat back down.

People eventually stopped staring.

This was not how he had intended things to go.

In the background Victor heard his name in horrified Japanese followed by what surely had to be ‘started a fire!’, ‘is having a heart attack!’ or something equally terrifying because Yuuri’s voice cracked and it sounded, faintly, as if the man might be sobbing.

Was this really the man who had looked up from the ice and into Victor’s soul? If so… then why had he done so in the first place? Victor hadn’t come thousands of miles away to see another hysterical fan. He had come to see that beauty again. To dance again, maybe. To feel as if he wasn’t ice all through to the core. The bath had done more for him in that respect than Yuuri had. And that was such a shame.

But Victor was in Japan and he had burned all his bridges on a hope. He couldn’t give up even if he wanted to. He had more pride than that.

Rising, Victor wiped the sweat from his brow and wrapped his towel around his waist with a sigh. 

Coaching was going to be difficult. Yuuri had gotten chubby since the Grand Prix.

But really, of the two of them, who had the Grand Prix changed the most? Compared to gaining a little weight Victor felt like he had gotten the short end of the stick. Yuuri had added some pounds. Victor had gotten a Japanese man with drinking issues and a strange way of saying hello to men who wanted to make him more than amazing.

Victor wanted to make Katsuki Yuri heroic.


	2. Chapter 2

Victor could be very cruel.

Very petty and very cruel. And from the look on his face from the night before that was something that Yuuri Katsuki was beginning to understand.

But Victor could be very sweet too. So sweet and charming and kind… and he was trying very very hard not to be too much of either of those things because Yuuri, well, it turned out that Yuuri was more than a fan.

Yuuri was fragile, he was caring, and he was on that blade’s edge too. Right beside Victor.

So, Victor thought, climbing into bed alone, ‘maybe we’ll fall right down together’.

And things became interesting again.

Victor took another bite of his breakfast while the Katsuki family beamed at him and nibbled their own food until he heard a heavy, dragging step from behind. He looked back to see Yuuri and the most miserable face in the world staring back at him.

“You should have just slept with me.” Victor said, taking another bite of rice and egg. He tried not to grin and added, “I would have made sure that you slept very deeply.”

Puce was the most accurate color Victor could think of as Yuuri collapsed beside him on the floor.

Yes, Victor could be very cruel. But it was funny when Yuuri made such interesting sounds and turned such a variety of different colors and Victor liked to have fun whenever he could.

Victor took a veeeery slow and pointed bite of egg and Yuuri’s mother said something bright and happy in Japanese.

Yuuri hid his face in his hands.

Somehow despite the language barrier Yuuri’s parents seemed to be in on the joke.

“What did she say?”

Yuuri turned, glared, and Victor’s heart did a toe loop in his chest. Yuuri was still blushing when he muttered something back in Japanese followed by, “is what she said.” and then began to eat his own food.

It was at that moment that Victor realized that Yuuri could be a little cruel too. Victor chuckled through his nose and took another bite, leaning as closely into Yuuri’s personal space as he could until Yuuri turned back with wide, glassy eyes and smile that Victor could imagine on the face on a bank teller in the beginning of a heist looking down the barrel of a gun.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, staring deeply into the man’s eyes, his voice low and inviting. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”

“Aha.” Was all Yuuri said in a pitch that made makkachin look up from the corner. “Ahahahaha.”

And then he stumbled back, stood, and fled the room without his breakfast. Victor watched him go, grinning, and then turned to the man’s beaming parents, pointed at the food, and exclaimed, “Vkusno!”

“Vkusno!” They both parroted back, laughing.

Mama Katsuki pulled out a device from under the table and Victor leaned in from the other side of the table to see what it was.

A translator. He watched her type on the pad for a few agonizing minutes before she presented him with the results and a beatific smile.

Please be nice to my boy.

Victor watched her for a long moment before typing in his own statement.

Perhaps, he typed in Russian, nice is not what your Yuuri needs.

There was a long silence when the both leaned in to see what he had written in return followed by a long look between both parents as Victor waited, suddenly anxious.

Would they throw him out now? Back to Russia in shame?

It turned out that skating was easy. It was coaching that was hard. Victor had a sudden, fierce need to see Yakov and apologize from the pit of his hardly-beating heart.

“Okay.” Yuuri’s father finally said, in heavily accented English. He took his wife’s hand and she nodded as well…. But there were tears in her kind eyes as she finished her meal. Victor, unsettled, finished his own breakfast in silence as he meditated on the reason why he hadn’t realized he was picking at the bowstrings of another life.

This wasn’t just another game and he was lost, suddenly, in the enormity of what he was trying to do. What failing would ultimately mean to Yuuri and his family.

“Thank you.” Victor replied in English before bowing like he had seen so many people do since he came to japan. 

Yuuri’s parents bowed back.

 

 

Victor rode his bicycle a little slower that day. His leisurely pace allowed Yuuri to catch up and run beside him down the empty sidewalks instead of behind. When Yuuri smiled in their silence Victor realized that they were having a very companionable moment. Victor smiled back and Yuuri’s nose and cheeks flushed from more than the chilled ocean air.

“You know why I’m not letting you skate, right?” Victor looked away. “You’ll hurt yourself jumping with the extra weight.”

Yuuri was silent for a long moment before replying, “I was hoping that that was the reason.”

Victor looked back to him, frowning. “Why else would I keep you out of the rink?”

Yuuri huffed a few breaths and focused forward.

“I don’t know.” He finally said. “Just- Well, nevermind. It’s nothing.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. 

“If anyone tried to keep me off the ice I’d slit their throats in their sleep.” Victor said. “Even if they had a good reason for it.”

Yuuri was silent for a long time before huffing, “Maybe it’s better for everyone that I didn’t let you in my room.”

A laugh came out of Victor like the flight of a startled bird. Yuuri ducked his face away but Victor could see the smile that crept over him.

I might still risk it, Victor didn’t say. I’m so sick of sleeping alone.

Instead Victor began to look forward. He was starting to get tired and the way back was uphill.

What do you want me to be for you?

Instead Victor said, “Why did you skate ‘close to me’, then? If you knew you might ruin a knee?”

Yuuri looked over to the left suddenly as if he was yearning for some kind of oncoming traffic to run into on the sleepy streets.

Traffic did not oblige. And then there it was – the high, nervous laugh and the beginning of another quick exit. Victor hit the breaks and came to a sudden stop. Yuuri continued to run but it was half-hearted and he turned finally, resting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily, his face red. After a moment he stood up, gestured, and then sighed deeply before looking away at the surf.

“I just-.” Yuuri’s voice was troubled, his eyes slit from the glare of the sunrise. Words seemed to fail him, his mouth moved soundlessly until what finally came out was in broken Japanese.

Yuuri’s eyes were filled with tears. “私はただの愛があった.”

Victor had never watched anyone collapse into themselves before. He had seen someone cry, of course, but he had never heard a statement so desolate. It was as if Yuuri’s beating heart had stopped right in Victor’s hands, or as if Victor was watching the man’s fingers disappear down into the sea and could do nothing to grasp them, to pull him back out.

And Victor… Victor saw himself again but this time he was not surprised.

Not at all.

“Go – Sorry.” Yuuri took off his glasses, wiped his full eyes and his dry cheeks.

“For what?” Victor thought, for grinding your heel in the shattered ice of my heart? 

“I always cry.” Yuuri laughed a little. “Gomen.”

And in the back of his mind Victor knew he could demand more from Yuuri and that he might get it too: an explanation, a touch, a kiss. But-

“You can watch. You could give me advice on my spins.” Victor said, his own smile stuttering on his lips. If he could do anything for someone it would be to put on a show. And he had seen recordings of Yuuri at his best. He was definitely a man who could give advice on any variety of spins.

Yuuri’s surprised smile bloomed and settled on his face like a pleasant dream.

He didn’t even look like he wanted to run away.

“Like you would ever need advice from me.” Yuuri said, his shed tears making his eyes luminescent in the sunrise. “Come on… let’s run.”

But run away Yuuri did, leaving Victor to watch from behind him as he cut a swath through the growing foot traffic. Straight through the crowd and into the light.

“You can always watch.” Victor whispered. 

And what shook him, what swept those pieces of his heart back together was that Victor had a feeling that Yuuri always had.

And still would.

 

 

The house was completely silent. So quiet that Victor could hear every footstep as if it was a windy night fighting against old wood. Creaking, creaking, and his heart doing salchows in his chest the whole while as his own breath rattled his old, aching bones. Victor wondered if Yuuri had the pain as well, or if he was just young enough to not feel a hard landing with every step he took. Makkachin patted along, oblivious. 

Victor stood in front of the only door that mattered and pulled Makkachin into his arms. He wanted to knock. He wanted so badly to just knock on the door like a friend would. Or a lover.

Instead, Victor creaked there, swaying and silent until finally there was a light. The door opened just a few inches as Yuuri looked out blinking and squinting without his glasses.

Victor was breathless. Makkachin kissed him on the cheek.

“Victor…How long have you been out here?” Yuuri asked, whispering. In retrospect, Victor thought, Yuuri’s bewilderment was warranted. “Makkachin?”

Victor turned on his brightest grin but the room stayed dim and the hallway dark as the light of a computer screen played across Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Makkachin was lonely. He said to me… where is Yuuri?” Victor took one of Makkachin’s paws and waved it in Yuuri’s direction. “And I said, ‘In bed, Makkachin’. And Makkachin said-”

“Victoruu.” Yuuri’s accent was heavy on his name, it lightened with, “Is this some kind of Russian hazing?”

“Ah…” Victor let Makkachin’s paw drop. “No?”

“No?” Yuuri opened the door a little wider. Leaned on the doorframe in his pajama bottoms and a shirt that belonged to a much larger man. One bare shoulder peeked out of his hem and Victor’s mouth went dry.

They stared at each other.

“I’ll just-”

“You can-”

They both trailed off into silence. Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. Victor held Makkachin a little bit tighter.

“You’re sure this isn’t hazing.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure-” Yuuri’s voice broke a little bit. “…you’re willing to risk it? I mean, you are keeping me from the ice. There might be consequences.”

Victor smiled again and heard the grin in his own voice. “Yes, I am… but not for much longer. I’m sure you’ll take that into account. You seem like a reasonable man.”

“Well, then. I guess…” Yuuri opened the door a little wider, smiled, beckoned him in, opened his mouth to say-

And from the adjacent doorway Mari said, “You two! Just. Get. In. Bed!”

Victor quietly thanked god for the dark as he blushed.

“Haha.” Yuuri’s voice hit that high pitch again. Wildly insecure but almost aggressively so as he spit a phrase out in rapidfire Japanese. His sister replied something that seemed to be wickedly disparaging and Yuuri’s face transformed into what looked like outrage and utter embarrassment-

“Which side should I sleep on!” Victor pushed his way in and shut the door behind the two of them. “What a cute room!”

“Cute?” Yuuri looked around as if he was seeing it for the first time. Victor sat on the bed (twin!) and let Makkachin down on the floor where he promptly turned a few circles on a forgotten sweatshirt and went to sleep with a huff.

Victor leaned back and nodded, both hands braced on the comforter that was still warm from Yuuri’s body. 

It took every ounce of Victor’s breeding and restraint not to point out to Yuuri that his computer screen was a candid picture of Victor at 16 from his junior years, long hair down to his waist and face transformed into a soft smile as he glided across the ice.

“I guess… take whichever side you want? I’ll-” Yuuri laughed again as he seemed to decide. “Sleep on the floor. Yes.”

It took every ounce of Victor’s breeding and restraint to not look at Yuuri like he was an idiot as he patted the side of the bed next to himself.

Victor felt himself slipping then. He was helpless as his public persona slid over the yearning teenager he had been only moments before. Helpless as he said, “Don’t be silly.”

Victor heard himself as if from very far away, as he murmured, “Let’s not keep your sister up any longer.”

The words in Victor’s heart: Please, Yuuri, take any side as long as I can hold you.

Yuuri sighed as if the weight of his breath was too much to possibly bear as he approached the bed and then sat until both of them were looking at the light of the computer in the night.

No one said a word as the screen saver on the flipped to another picture of Victor. It was a glamor shot this time. Victor winking, a finger to his lips as if to say, ‘Let it be our little secret’.

“Um.” Yuuri breathed. “Vict- I’m- I don’t know-”

Another, Victor dancing across the ice, his face full of determination as he clinched his second gold at the Grand Prix. 

Yuuri looked like he was about to cry again. The heat of his cheeks warmed the cold of Victor’s fingertips, the edges of his heart, and the recesses of his wakening soul.

“Let’s sleep, Yuuri.” Victor had to tease just a little though. Even as he caressed Yuuri’s face with one hand he winked, touched one finger to his own lips with the other, and said. “It’s too late to stay up talking.”

“Right.” Yuuri breathed, a small and cautious smile on his face. “Good night.”

They curled up together that way. Victor dared an arm around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri risked to hold Victor’s hand in a trembling grip.

And together – feeling each tremulous breath - they slept.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the fandom and writing in a style that I haven't really worked with before... so bear with me please :). 
> 
> Uh... anyone want to Beta?


End file.
